


Inhibition

by Captsuragi (CaptainHat)



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Repressed Memories, Shinji all growed up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHat/pseuds/Captsuragi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinji Ikari doesn't remember much of his childhood, and he doesn't dwell on it. If he thinks too hard about it, he feels sick. And he doesn't need to think about it, so why should he?</p><p>Sometimes he thinks living alone might be taking it's toll. It'd be nice to have someone around for the nightmares (because they keep coming).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhibition

_“The eyes of a benevolent ruler,” he thought, “The eyes of someone who could kill me with ease but would cry at my death.”_

He woke with a start.

It was then he realized he was crying.

He wasn’t sure why.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next night, he wakes up crying again.

He has the duration of a breath to rack his mind before it’s gone again.

_“Are his hands touching mine?” he thinks. A piano. (He’s playing? When did he learn?) “Ah, Shinji-kun, I told you you could!” Warmth at his back._

There’s more, but he can’t reach it. It’s frustrating, so frustrating, he would be crying if there weren't tears already streaming down his face. He stands as tall as he can, on tip-toe and with the most outstretched reach he can, but he can’t reach. His fingers brush it, but he can’t take it down, he can’t inspect it and look at it and find out what is happening, where he’s seen these pictures.

He falls asleep without blowing his nose.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day he remembers even less, and wakes up hyperventilating. He was drowning in air, it was thick like a liquid and he couldn't get any closer, couldn't get close enough, couldn't do what he wanted, couldn't do anything to help. There was blood and it wasn't his but it _belonged_ to him, it was _his_.

After he had slowed his breathing, pulled himself together- he's lying still, drenched in sweat and the lingering tendrils of panic already spent- he thinks it strange to feel so possessive. But it's right. 

_His_.

The sun hasn't risen, and he decides to go for a walk.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted a work on this website and I haven't written a fic in four years. This is a terrifying learning experience. Enfrightening.


End file.
